T vs CT: Italy
by Shadow's Forge
Summary: Based in the CounterStrike 1.6 universe. A wacky tale involving a day with the players of the eminent NCSU servers. Note: Be a gameruining prick at your own risk
1. NOTES

NOTES:

This is a story based upon the 1.6 Counter-Strike modification of the popular game Half-Life. This story takes place in a realistic environment--virtual reality, if you will--where no one "dies".

The characters in this story are all real-life Counter-Strike 1.6 players.

If you are interested in becoming part of the NCSU community, visit **ncsu,ne1,net** (Where commas are dots)


	2. The Cast

**_T Vs. CT: ITALY_**

by

Gregory P. Wong

* * *

**Pre-game**

* * *

The map is now csitaly

Caboose has joined the Game  
Caboose is joining the Terrorist force

Smoke has joined the Game  
Smoke is joining the Counter-Terrorist force

Rhinolight has joined the Game  
Rhinolight is joining the Terrorist force

Bob Long has joined the Game  
Bob Long is joining the Counter-Terrorist force

Solza has joined the Game  
Solza is joining the Terrorist force

Jmartini (jb) has joined the Game  
Jmartini (jb) is joining the Counter-Terrorist force

UCDChairman Mao has joined the Game  
UCDChairman Mao is joining the Terrorist force

PheerMee has joined the Game  
PheerMee is joining the Counter-Terrorist force

UCDChurchill has joined the Game  
UCDChurchill is joining the Terrorist force

A2D2Asterisk has joined the Game  
A2D2Asterisk is joining the Counter-Terrorist force

Hi5 Jive has joined the Game

Hi5 Jive is joining the Terrorist force

Pootie Wants To Win has joined the Game  
Pootie Wants to Win is joining the Counter-Terrorist force

MasterShafter has joined the Game  
MasterShafter is joining the Terrorist force

Quiksilver has joined the Game  
Quiksilver is joining the Counter-Terrorist force

Rah Tha Man has joined the Game  
Rah Tha Man is joining the Terrorist force

Ac3 has joined the Game

Ac3 is joining the Counter-Terrorist force

StreetSoldier has joined the Game

StreetSoldier is joining the Terrorist force

Lostboii has joined the Game  
Lostboii is joining the Counter-Terrorist force

FlyingTiger has joined the Game  
FlyingTiger is joining the Terrorist force

Anarath has joined the Game  
Anarath is joining the Counter-Terrorist force

SuperDan has joined the Game  
SuperDan is joining the Terrorist force

B1zzly has joined the Game  
B1zzly is joining the Counter-Terrorist force

Nox has joined the Game  
Nox is joining the Terrorist force

Little Billy has joined the Game  
Little Billy is joining the Counter-Terrorist force

JDickSSu has joined the Game  
JDickSSu is joining the Terrorist force

Crazn Savage Cannibal has joined the Game  
Crazn Savage Cannibal is joining the Counter-Terrorist force

GAME COMMENCING!


	3. The Teams

TERRORIST FORCE

Caboose  
Rhinolight  
Solza  
UCDChairman Mao  
UCDChurchill  
Hi5 Jive  
MasterShafter  
Rah Tha Man  
StreetSoldier  
FlyingTiger  
SuperDan  
Nox  
Fr33way

COUNTER-TERRORIST

Smoke  
Jmartini (jb)  
Bob Long  
PheerMee  
A2D2Asterisk  
Pootie Wants To Win  
Quiksilver  
Ac3  
Lostboii  
Anarath  
B1zzly  
Little Billy  
Crazn Savage Cannibal


	4. Preparation

**_T vs. CT: ITALY_**

By

Gregory P. Wong

* * *

**PREPARATION**

* * *

**Terrorists**

"Okay, we got this," StreetSoldier said calmly. "This is a T map, no problem, right guys? Don't leave the hosties uncovered."

"Okay, okay, we get the picture, Street," Mao said tiredly. "You've told us, what, fifty fucking times?"

"You know what, Mao—" Street began.

As the two bickered, Caboose took a quick look over the team.

Rhino, Solza, Mao, Tiger, Rah, and Freeway all toted fully loaded AK-47s. All of them, except Mao, who was currently telling Street to do something incredibly unnatural to his mother, had all purchased Desert Eagle "hand cannons" as secondaries. Mao always said he couldn't do shit with pistols, so he wasn't going to waste 650$ on something that wasn't going to save him.

Jive, Dan, and Nox had other weapons, SIG 552 rifles. Jive was a bit giddy, since he was going to show a name for the illustrious Hi5 clan, which had been graced by the likes of the extraordinary Little Billy.

The fact that Billy was a shield user, an all-around goofball, and someone obsessed with the acronym "lol" escaped his attention, of course. But that's Jive for you.

Churchill, as usual, carried his usual load of 7.63 NATO Steyr Scout—Accept no Substitutes, bitches—with a Desert Eagle pistol. As usual, his spot near Apartments was calling for him. He was expecting... oh, fifteen kills today. Anything less and he was going to slap his roommate (who, coincidentally, wasn't Mao for this year). The Steyr Scout that was going to be the death of fifteen or more CTs—God help Matt if it wasn't—was heavily stylized. In between the shooting of peoples' heads off and studying, Church had discovered his artistic side, yes-siree. If his Scout wasn't _the_ most pimped out firearm on the map, he would eat Mao's AK.

StreetSoldier, who was telling Mao to do something extremely unnatural to a walrus _and_ PheerMee, held an M3 Super 90 12-gauage pumpgun. After all, this wasn't IRL, and you could respawn in non-IRL, so why not get up close and personal?

MasterShafter, interestingly, only carried a Mac10. The hell?

"Shafter, that's, uh, kinda light," Caboose noted.

"I run faster with a Mac10. Running faster with a Mac10 means I can get closer. Getting closer to the enemy means I can bring out my knife. You run faster with a knife. When I'm running faster with a knife, I get _really_ close. Really close means I get a shaft," Shafter babbled.

"Ooookay, Shafter, that's all good."

He, Caboose, carried his trademark Spray'n'Pray IMI Galil. Good gun, if the range wasn't all that long. Nox had one too. He'd always thought Nox to be an AK kind of guy, but hey, whatever floated his boat.

Okay, everything looked good to go.

"Okay, Abib, we got everything," Caboose said to the Arabian man who was leading a small caravan of camels. Brother to Habib from the Dust2 region, "Black Market" Abib provided them with the shiny firearms.

"Thank you, come again," Abib said, smiled, and led his camels away.

Caboose shook his head and looked down at his wrist monitor. Okay.

Only a few more seconds before the start of the round...

* * *

**Counter-Terrorists**

Billy polished off his Deagle.

"Billy, that's the fifth fucking time you've wiped that damned pistol with that rag. Quit it," Bob Long groaned.

"Make me, paintball boy," Billy replied with a grin. He continued to polish his little baby.

Bob Long rolled his eyes. Screw it. Billy was wacked.

Bob looked over this team.

Smoke, Asterisk, Pootie, Anarath, and Bizz all had their trusty M4a1 Colts. Pootie, of course, was trying to bum "hacks" off of Bizzly and Smoke. Smoke and Bizz told him—very politely, of course—to do something very dangerous involving his rifle and his rectum.

Pheermee, the Phamas-Phiring Phurball of a Pherbee, had his trademark weapon. Pherbee was deadly with the weapon, especially when it was set to burst fire. Sure was a headshot machine in skilled hands. Lostboii also toted the French gun.

Haha, French gun.

Riiight. Anyways.

Ace and Jmar had Steyr AUGs. Pretty good guns, if you ignored their odd shape and tendency to rise. The scope was excellent, but whenever he used it, he had a tendency to crouch and squeeze off shots, and that left him open to someone who would be dancing all over the place.

He carried an M3 shotgun. He'd once told Mao that he was only good with a pump shotty, and not even then, but he'd just said that to make Mao feel better because, after all, he was getting knifed this map. And since Mao had feelings of inadequacy. Inadequacy being, uh, in gaming and of the stereotypical Asian variety. Poor guy. He almost felt sorry for Mao.

Billy was... well he didn't look like he was going to get a shield. He had a Desert Eagle, of course, since Billy wouldn't shut about his Oh-my-gawd-deagle-hax. But Billy had better decide soon, though, map was almost starting.

Well... yep. Billy didn't look like he was going to dare touch a shield. After all, shields became knife targets to people who knew how to handle them. Which, he had to grudgingly admit, included Mao.

Last... eh. Savage was carrying a nub-stick, a Benelli M4 automatic shotgun. He never really liked the fucker, but oh well, he was on his team, which meant he had to cover his ass. God, why the did the bastards come to _his_ team?

So gay. So gay, in fact, that Lance Bass was straight again in comparison. Eh-heh.

Whatever. If Savage was as fucking annoying as he remembered him to be, Mao, Caboose, Church, Nox, Street, and Pherbee would fuck him over so hard and so fast they'd amaze even themselves.

Hadn't Caboose told them about something called "StayOut"?

Ah, whatever, map was about to start.


	5. Round One!

**_T vs. CT: ITALY_**

By

Gregory P. Wong

* * *

**ROUND** **ONE**

* * *

**Terrorists**

The moment the countdown clock wound down to zero, Mao bolted from his spawn point—laden down with an AK, a Glock, and a full load of grenades—and headed down the long hallway to his favorite little crevice near the entrance. He ducked in and unslung his rifle. Okay, time to chill for a couple of seconds. If they pushed, he could pop out and give 'em a face full of lead. If they went around—like through middle—he could rush out and get them in their asses.

Or knife them. _He_'_d_ get the first knife, not Mr. Master "I Will Wait In A Dark Corner For Five Minutes Until Some Poor Dumb Enemy Blunders Past Me, Whereupon I Shall Dig My Knife Into His Back" Shafter.

Hee hee hee.

Shafter had similar sentiments, though he didn't know—and wouldn't have cared anyway—that Mao was obsessed with knifing first. He rushed down the stairs, through middle, and took up station in a little crevice that was dug out directly opposite the T side of middle.

Church, scout in hand, settled into his usual spot, at the opposite end of the "alley" from the Terrorist side of apartments. He had good cover, and his precision would tear some heads off today, yes siree...

Caboose, Rah, Tiger, Freeway, Dan, and Street raced through apartments. A strong push would work, wouldn't it? Street, in the lead with his shotgun, lead the charge. He entered the second room and—

"Oh, fuuuuuck," he whispered, and pulled the trigger.

* * *

**Counter**-**Terrorists**

Billy almost fucking _jumped_ out of his skin when a T with a very large looking gun popped into the room. Almost panicking, he dropped into a crouch and began to squeeze shots up into the Terrorist's belly.

Shitshitshitshitshit...

The shotgun boomed, and he felt his arm take a fucking _nasty_ hit, but, well, he had won this one.

You had to pump a fucking shotgun, dumbass. You only had to pull the trigger of a Deagle.

He rammed three rapid shots into the T's chest.

Yessss! All hail Billy, the Conquer—

* * *

**Terrorist**

Caboose cursed and unloaded his Galil into the somewhat triumphant face of the CT. Damn, Street was down, off in Dead Zone.

Oh well, tough shit. Respawn was for later.

Caboose paused to reload, and Nox, Tiger, and Freeway barreled past him.

"Nice shot," Dan said admiringly, gesturing to the face of Billy.

Well, at least it looked like a face. It looked like a pretty good facsimile of what came out of a cow's anus if said cow was afflicted with bloody, explosive diarrhea.

"Yeah, thanks," he answered Dan. Let's get—"

And then there was a stuttering of silenced M4s, and the lifeless bodies of the three who had rushed ahead flew back into the room.

"Ah, fuck," sighed Dan.

Jive, Rhino and Solza, raced down Long Hall. Jive felt very safe with Solza there. Solza was his god.

Solza didn't care what the fuck Jive thought he was, as long as he didn't block him. If he got blocked by Jive, he'd tell Caboose to enable friendly fire, and then he'd do bad things to Jive. Very bad things.

Rhino went left upon exiting the hall, and took a peek. Holy shit! The market was crawling with CTs! Rhino fired a quick burst from his AK-47 and tried to back away, but a large CT with a Famas came into view. He tried to maneuver, but there was no room in the little hall. He heard the Famas bark three times, and his head blew off.

Coincidentally, he squashed the chicken when he fell.

Solza's eyes narrowed when he heard the triple-shot of a Famas, and he slowly eased himself toward the right-side market entrance. A CT! He swiftly brought up his rifle and drilled a shot into the throat of a SEAL that had been rushing. More CTs popped into view and he backed up behind the wall.

Or tried to. Fucking Jive was blocking him!

"Fucking move!" he roared at the other Terrorist, and shoved hard. Jive looked up at him stupidly and didn't budge.

He felt bullets tear into his thigh, and he snarled and returned fire. CTs dove out of the way.

"Goddammit, move!" he yelled again, and this time Jive did.

Solza dived behind the wall, and checked his injuries. Oh, good lord, he was down to 43 HP! Dammit, if Jive had moved, he wouldn't have taken _half_ the damage he'd taken.

He whirled around to glare a Jive. "Damn, block some more, why don't you. Maybe next time I'll die after—"

_Clink­_-_clink_-_clink_!

Solza turned around and stared as two HE grenades landed a foot away from his boots.

This was gonna hurt, wasn't it?

* * *

**Counter**-**Terrorists**

Pheermee eased out from behind the exquisitely woven Persian rugs he'd been hiding behind when he'd nailed the first T that had popped into market.

He dug out a flashbang—as always, it was reskinned to look like an authentic Furby©, and flung it down the far-side entrance of market. He switched his gun to automatic fire and charged when he heard the Furby© go off.

Pheermee popped into long hall and exchanged fire with a terrorist up in the windows of the house. He managed to take out the bastard. Yeah! Two for the Pherbee!

And then a T popped out from the stairwell at the base of hall and blew his chest open with an AK.

Having disposed of three terrorists who'd thought rushing apartments was a good idea, Quik, Smoke, and Bizzly eased into the first room.

Smoke took the lead, with Bizzly right behind him and Quik taking rear guard. He moved into the next—

_Shit_! There were still Ts in apartments! Quik saw Smoke unload on one of the Ts, a Phoenix toting a Galil, but the other terrorist opened up his stomach with an AK-47.

The terrorist fled the room as he and Bizz gave chase.

White letters appeared on the wall.

**Lol that hurt**.

Pootie heard shooting inside apartments. Smoke must have haxored up a lot of bitches. Or something like that. He, Ast, and Ace, exited market and clambered up the boxes into apartments.

Ooookay, there was a lot of blood splattered everywhere and—hello. Smoke was dead on the ground. Well... there was Smoke's gun. Maybe he'd inherit some 1337 h4x or something. Yeah, that would work.

He charged off. Time to sharpen dem skills.

* * *

**Dead Zone**

"Okay, I can deal with it," Solza was saying very calmly. "I mean, _any_ nub with a _quarter_ of a brain would know that _blocking_ is a goddamned _annoying_ thing to do. Well, yeah, I can cope. Yeah, cope."

Solza sounded like he would cope, but in a very violent way.

The Dead Zone, the floating place above the map that all dead players went to when they, well, died. Duh. Glowing text nametags showed above everyone's head.

Pheermee was busy polishing off a muffin, most likely one with sour cream topping. The SAS finished it, looked around a bit guilty, and dug around his backpack. He pulled out a something that looked a bit flat and feathery.

Rhinolight saw it and remembered right when he died. Wait a second...

"Is that the chicken I squashed?" he asked incredulously.

"Yep," answered the large CT. "Can't pass up the idea of some good chicken fingers. Well, once I make them, that is. Shouldn't be too hard."

Caboose swung his head around and stared. "You're going to make chicken fingers? How?"

"I've got my ways. Now, where'd I put those filet knives and pans...?"

There was a pop and SuperDan appeared.

"Fuck, there were more of them. Oh well, I took out Smoke, at least."

Smoke just shrugged.

* * *

**Counter-Terrorists**

Now where was little Mao-Mao?

Bob shifted his grip on the shotgun and made his way through market. Jive had done a number on him before he'd blown his head off with a load of double-ought buck.

He heard firing. Okay, to hell with being quiet.

Bob charged up long hall.

And then he ran into something. He tripped, and his shotgun flew out of his hands. What the fuck?

He looked behind him.

Oh, it was Mao. He drew out his knife. Time for a Mao den ornament!

But, fuck, he only had 32 health...

* * *

**Terrorists**

Church yelped as bullets spattered into the corner of the building he was using for cover. He'd drilled one of the CTs in the face with the Steyr, but there was a whole load more of them. He backed away, scout up, and ran backwards back to house.

It was so cool that running with a scout was faster than running with a knife.

Church took two more potshots and then dove into the house.

Mao backed away from Bob's lunge and slashed with his knife. Rule number one of knife fights: you cut your opponent up and bleed them out, not get your knife stuck in their belly fat.

On second thought, fuck it. This wasn't real life.

He lunged back. Bob was a fraction quicker on the recovery and dug the knife into his stomach.

Ouchie.

He lashed out, and buried the knife in Bob's chest. The CT crumpled.

He quickly tapped a message into the admin wrist computer. White letters appeared in the sky.

**Jumiliation of Bob by the Chairman! Suck it, bitch!**

"Heh, good thing I had more health," he said to himself.

And then something hit him in the head.

* * *

**Counter-Terrorists**Oh well, poor Bob. He was going to kill something up there after being killed by Mao like that. At least he took out Mao. Jmar shrugged and jogged up the hall. 

This could be better. Quik was currently spattered with the blood of both Bizzly and Asterisk. In the case of Bizzly, there was some brain matter mixed in, too. Icky stuff. It would take a lot of scrubbing to get out. Yech.

It had to be Church sniping. They had to ban the scout from that guy.

He plucked a smoke grenade from his belt and flung it into the wall. It bounced, and he heard the device go off. He peeked out fro the apartment hallway and saw that there was a thick haze of smoke blocking the house from his view. Well, if his view was blocking, that meant Church's was, too. Good times. He, Ace and Pootie charged for the house door.

Lost crept up middle, Famas at the ready. If he could be quiet...

_Thump-thump-thump-thump_.

What the fuck?

He whirled around. Oh, fucking dandy. It was Cannibal. And he was hopping all around the place, making all sorts of noise.

"Sssssh" he hissed. "Keep it down!"

"Fuck you, cocklicker," Cannibal said loudly. "You can't tell me to do shit. Or what, you gonna cry to the admin, you little shit-scrub? Huh? Huh? The way that that faggot Caboose runs the server, I'd think you'd blow him to ban me? Huh? Huh?"

He whirled around and stared at Cannibal.

"Listen, this is a game. Don't be such a dick about it."

Or what, faggot? Gonna tell that loser Caboose to do something to me? Huh? What's that make you, fucker?"

Something wasn't right. He could've sworn he'd seen movement over Cannibal's shoulder. It looked like... nah, nothing.

Meh, whatever. They were standing out in middle, in, well, the middle of the open. If a T went on the overhang they'd be seen.

And shot.

"Okay, whatever. Let's go."

* * *

**Terrorists**Shafter listened attentively, behind Cannibal's back, as the asshole spewed off his continuous stream of bullshit. 

"Bitch, you don't have to tell me to go anywhere. Faggot, I could kill the entire Terrorist team all by my fucking self, and you're a fucking nub. Go chew on a dick, faggot, and maybe then I'll—"

Okay, enough.

Shafter tapped Cannibal on the shoulder.

"What the fuck now?" Cannibal spat in annoyance and turned around.

Shafter gave a wide, toothy grin. The CT's eyes widened in horror.

"Hello, my name is MasterShafter."

And the Shafter jammed the knife up Cannibal's jaw and into his brain.

As he let Cannibal's lifeless body topple, he looked at Lost.

"Uh, why'd you turn him around? You could've stuck him in the back and gotten me too, if you were fast."

"Eh, I wanted to see his face when I stuck the knife in."

"Oh, okay. Thanks, by the way," Lost said. Then he watched the CT raise his Famas up and fire it straight at his face.

Rah hustled through CT spawn. He'd managed to move—literally unopposed—through side, and now he was going to get behind the counter-terrorists and give them a good beating. But he'd better move fast.

Church didn't like this one fricking bit. He could hear three CTs galumphing around house. He's jumped out the back window and was on top of the boxes, listening.

Yep, it was hopeless. Might as go out with a bang.

He slung his scout and drew his Deagle.

"_AH LA LA LA LA JIHAAAAAD_!" he cried and dove back into the house from the back window.

* * *

**Dead Zone**"Okay, Cannibal, normally I'm a pretty mellow guy, but you're getting on my nerves," Caboose said tiredly. 

"Well, fuck you _and_ your server, bitch. 'Ooh, I named myself after an RvB character, I'm _sooo_ original.' You're as gay as the rest of this faggoty server."

"And the levels of faggotry have reached alarming levels," Mao said to himself.

Caboose took a deep breath and turned away. Church has recently joined them, following a depressed looking Pootie.

"I swear I had that gun pointed at your face, Church," Pootie said glumly. "Man, even the admins hack."

Church laughed.

There was a delicious smell in the air. Somehow Pheer _had_ whipped up a batch of chicken fingers, a dozen and a half. Solza said he liked them, but he'd prefer a nice sammich.

Hmm, time for a brief admin council. All of them—he, Pheermee, Mao, Nox, Street, and Church were here. He motioned for them to come to him.

"What's up, Boose?" Street asked.

"What do we do about Cannibal."

Nothing. Well, they had some time to think about it. Maybe he could test out—"

"Um, I've got an idea," he heard Pheermee say.

* * *

**Terrorists**Shit! 

Churchill dropped off the Alive Roster. Great, now he was all alone versus three CTs. Just fucking great.

Rah ran up the middle stairs and crouched under the back house of window. He could hear CTs inside.

Hmm... they had him outnumbered. They probably had him outgunned. He couldn't just run in there, or he'd just get shot for nothing.

Time for fear tactics.

"Hey bitches!" he called into the house. "I've got you surrounded!"

He heard the CTs laugh.

"This ain't funny! I'm armed! And dangerous!"

More laughter. This wasn't working. Maybe a different approach.

"I'm black!"

"We live in America, big deal," one of the CTs yelled back.

Fine then, bitches.

"Then be fucking scared, then! I'm fucking black, and I _have a fucking gun_!"

There was a gasp.

"Run awaaaaaay!" one of the CTs screamed, and leaped out the back window.

Rah shot him.

"Save meeeeee!" another CT yelled, and jumped out the back window. Rah shot him, too.

Okay, one more to go...

* * *

**Counter-Terrorists**

Lostboii shook his head in puzzlement as he saw the terrorist staring expectantly at the back window of house. He looked like he was expecting something.

He shrugged, and shot the Terrorist.

Counter-Terrorists win!


	6. Round Two!

**_T vs. CT: ITALY_**

by

Gregory P. Wong

* * *

**ROUND TWO**

* * *

The admins were still waiting for an opportune moment to implement Pheermee's plan.

The terrorists played more conservatively, and took CTs under crossfires whenever they could. Church held down apartments all by himself, and market had been taken by Mao, Solza, Rhino, Jive, and Rah. The others were hovering around middle.

Billy was back to his old tricks again, buying shields.

In the end, only Rah, Mao, Shafter, and Caboose died to take out the whole CT team. Those deaths only resulted because Cannibal had camped, baited, and teamflashed his comrades in order for them to become meat shields.

Shafter even managed to pick up two knifes before he was shot.


	7. Round Three!

**_ T vs. CT: ITALY_**

By

Gregory P. Wong

* * *

**ROUND THREE

* * *

**

**Counter-Terrorists**

Cannibal mumbled bad-temperedly as he bought his items from the government shop. The fucking pricks were all fucking scrubs.

amx-disarm Crazn Savage Cannibal  
Crazn Savage Cannibal has been disarmed!

Amxheal Crazn Savage Cannibal 5000  
Crazn Savage Cannibal has been healed

Enable Friendly Fire

The fuck? He dropped his guns. Huh? He hadn't meant to do that.

Something large clamped on his shoulder. He turned around and saw that it was Pheermee.

"Let go, faggot."

Pheermee sighed.

"What, you gonna buttfuck me, you—"

And the Pheermee punched him in the face, breaking four teeth.

"Show time," he heard the big CT say.

My, what big knuckles he had...

* * *

**Terrorists**

Since Caboose had enabled alltalk, Nox listened in on the radio.

"Okay, Okay, I'll stop! I'll stop! Don't hurt meeeeee!" Cannibal was blubbering into the open channel.

"This is really fun to hear," Caboose noted.

"Word."

* * *

**Counter-Terrorists**

Pheermee hummed as he banged Cannibal's face into the railing at spawn. Then he flung the crying CT into another wall.

"To piledrive or not to piledrive, that is the question," he recited a corrupted version of Shakespeare.

Like there was a real question. Piledrive it was. He turned Cannibal upside down and jumped off from the raised platform of spawn.

Ooh, that was going to leave a mark.

"Whether 'tis nobler to use the baseball bat or the wooden plank with nails."

He picked on the baseball bat, and knocked teeth out of Cannibal's mushy-looking face. The annoying motherfucker was whimpering like a bitch.

"To suffer the pain of a Desert Eagle, or the slinging of 12-gauge buckshot into your genital region?"

He picked buckshot.

* * *

**Dead Zone**

"Aren't we being too cruel?" Caboose asked Mao and Nox. They'd all taken a route through middle and met a large concentration of CTs. It hadn't been very pretty

"Nah," Mao said. "This is fun to watch. 'Sides, I want ideas."

**Counter-Terrorists**

* * *

**Yo, Phurball. It's Mao. As fun as this is fun to watch, I think it's enough for now**.

Pheermee gave a sad sigh.

**Fine, fine**, he typed back. **Any suggestions?**

**ROCKETS!!11!**

Nah, not enough style. Wait!

Pheermee rapidly tapped in a command into his wrist computer.

Amxfire.

Immediately a large can of gasoline popped into existence in his hand. In his other hand appeared a Zippo lighter.

Cannibal moaned. Pheermee hummed as he splashed the other CT with gas.

He snapped the lighter open and lit it.

"Toasty time, bitch" he said, grinning maniacally.

Then he dropped the lighter on Cannibal's battered, gasoline-soaked body.

Again, the round went to the Terrorist team, since, with Pheermee kicking the bejeesus out of Cannibal, the CTs were undermanned. Still, though, it was a very close thing, with Bizzly, Pheermee, and Billy having to dislodge Mao and Shafter out of house.

They were momentarily distracted as a screaming fireball dashed up from long hall and ran towards apartment. The surviving players called a temporary truce as they shot Cannibal down.

Then the CTs stormed the house, with Shafter and Mao playing cat and mouse games with the rushing counter-terrorists.

Mao knifed Billy as the shield-carrying CT was climbing up the boxes.

Terrorists win!


	8. Round Four!

**_T vs. CT: ITALY_**

By

Gregory P. Wong

* * *

**ROUND FOUR **

* * *

**Terrorists**

"All ready, Caboose," Street said into his radio.

"Right."

Amxteleport Crazn Savage Cannibal to...  
Player Crazn Savage Cannibal has been teleported!

* * *

**Counter-Terrorists**

"What the fuck now?" the CT rasped in annoyance.

amx-disarm Crazn Savage Cannibal

Crazn Savage Cannibal has been disarmed!

Amxheal Crazn Savage Cannibal 5000  
Crazn Savage Cannibal has been healed

And then the he noticed that he had landed smack dab in the middle of T spawn, and he didn't have so much as a sharp stick as a weapon.

"Mommeeeee," Cannibal whimpered like a little girl.

In the end, the entire Terrorist team had done very painful things to Cannibal, things involving glocks and body parts. Plus knives.

Street had a brilliant idea to dispose of Cannibal.

With a little help of the command amxrocket, Cannibal was given a rocket-powered suppository and lofted into the air.

Churchill, viewing through his scope, said that Cannibal must have gone more than three hundred feet straight up before exploding.

Solza could have sworn it was five.

* * *

**Counter-Terrorists**

Jmar clutched his Desert Eagle—his M4 had run out of ammo, and he wasn't going to risk the noise of picking something else up.

The rest of both teams were dead. It was just him versus Jive.

Just them two.

He could hear speech come floating out of the windows of house.

Huh? Weird. Could Jive be using the hostages as leverage, torturing them to make sure he didn't come inside? But that made noise, and he would be able to sneak up...

Well, one way the make sure. He crept into the door of house.

The noise hadn't died down. In fact, the radio was still on, the basso voice of some Italian dude giving a pretty good imitation of the sound a goat makes when it was dying a horrible death.

Okay, take it east, take it slow.

"I'll raise it, bitch!" a voice said from the top floor.

Raise what? Well, only one way to find out.

He walked up the stairs. He took a peek and...

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" he snapped.

Jive had set up a square table right next to the radio, and looked to be playing poker with three of the hostages.

"Shut up! I'll get this on the river!" Jive barked over his shoulder, not even bothering to turn around.

He rolled his eyes. Judging from the cards in Jive's hand and the common cards on the table, Jive wouldn't win jack shit.

"Okay, I'm going to turn the river! Here it goes! I'm gonna—"

Jmar blew his head off.

Counter-Terrorists were victorious.


	9. Round Five!

**_T vs. CT: ITALY_**

By

Gregory P. Wong

* * *

**ROUND FIVE

* * *

**

**Counter-Terrorists**

It wasn't any fun anymore, Quik mused internally. Cannibal was a gibbering wreck, curled up in a fetal position. He barely responded when Bizzly tosses a heavy crate on him. Oh, well, game over.

Ooh, amxuberslap!

He tapped in the words, and immediately there was the sound of dozens of hands slapping soft flesh. He looked up and saw that Cannibal was bouncing from one point to another, as though smacked around by invisible baseball bats.

Oh, well, time to finish this map.

* * *

**Terrorists**

Mao wondered why no one had come into market. No Ts, not CTs. Weird as...

And then a divot of cement was dug out of the wall near his head.

"Yaaah!" he yelped and dived behind the center kiosk.

"_Mao_, _is that fucking _you!?" Mao heard the familiar voice of Bob. "_I_'_ve got something for you_!"

He heard the sound of a knife being drawn.

Uh oh.

Solza, Caboose, Nox, Rah, and Shafter rushed apartments, encountering only light resistance. Two CTs—one was a big one, looked like Pheermee—had tried to stop them, but Solza and Rah had gone past them easily. The ill-advised Pherbee was currently staining the fine wood floor.

Nox, in the lead, entered the final room before reaching the CT side of apartments. He slowed down, took a quick peek to the left. No one there. Piece of cake. He rushed out again, and he heard the others following. Time to get behind the CTs...

And then he heard gunshots.

* * *

**Counter-Terrorists**

Bob gasped as Mao's knife stab just barely missed, nicking his cheek. He slashed forward, and was rewarded with a grunt of pain as his knife bit deep in Mao's thigh.

Score for da Bob Long!

Unfortunately, Mao used the time he took digging his knife out of the terrorist's thigh to stab him in the shoulder. He grunted, and pushed Mao back with his free hand.

Mao stumbled backwards, and Bob arrowed his knife for Mao's face. Mao took that exact moment to duck, and his knife just barely missed shaving off a sliver from the terrorist's scalp.

"Oh, fuck you Bob," Mao snarled, and dove forward.

"I love you too, Mao," he said, and drove the knife deep into Mao's skull.

Anarath, Ast, Ace, Pootie, and Smoke moved through apartments, while Bizzly, Jmar, and Lost forked off from side and headed for center.

Billy, taking a shortcut through cellar, had his shield, of course, and the trusty Deagle. He ran down the cellar stairs, pistol out until he saw a T hiding behind some barrels. He nailed the bastard in the head.

"Go, go, go!" he yelled into his radio.

* * *

**Terrorists**

Churchill was nervous. The team that had rushed apartments had taken down at least two CTs.

And then there had been a hail of gunsfire, and the Ts in apartment had died. To make things worse, Mao had been the only one to head down into market, and he was dead, too.

So, two ways for CTs to come out, one scout. Fine, poontangs, be like that.

He shifted his aim towards apartments. Time to wait.

Dan didn't like the fact that only he and Church had stayed near the hostages. There were still a lot of CTs left. He toyed with his AK.

Footsteps near stairs! He unclipped a grenade from his belt and hurled it out the window. He was rewarded with an explosion and a cry of pain.

He popped out to the window and sent controlled bursts at the injured CTs below. He—

And then M4s blew his head off.

* * *

**Counter-Terrorists**

It was a bit ugly, but at least most of the team was still alive. Smoke was injured as fuck from Solza's dying shots, but he could finish the round. He eased out of the last apartment room. Wait, there was a CT with a scout over—!

Churchill worked wonders with his scout, and took down three of the CTs that had come barreling of apartment. Unfortunately, the numbers were simply against him, and a hail of gunfire took him down. The two CT survivors, Pootie and Ace, raced for the house.

Bizzly and Jmar—Lostboii had been killed by Dan—started to clamber up the boxes. They were quickly joined by Billy, who emerged from cellar

Jive, Tiger, Freeway, and Rhino, the last of the terrorists, heard the fierce gunfight near house. They reversed their charge down long hall and dashed back towards the hostages. Just as the Ts came back into their spawn, Bizzly made a charge for the door. His gun was out of position, and before he was able to level it at the Ts, he was perforated with bullets. The other CTs heard the reports of the guns and swung around the house to investigate, but the four terrorists had already gotten back into the house.

The CTs had the numerical advantage—five against four—but the house gave the Terrorists a distinct advantage against the assaulting Counter-Terrorists.

In the end, only Freeway survived, but the five Counter-Terrorists had been killed.

Freeway took off his ski mask and began to reload his AK. He looked over at the dejected hostages.

"Sorry boys," he said cheerfully.

He slipped out the half-spent magazine and began to jam in a new one. And then he noticed that there was a reflection of something blue on the shiny metal.

"The fuck..." he mumbled.

And then Bob stabbed him.


	10. Debriefing

**_T vs. CT: ITALY_**

by

Gregory P Wong

* * *

**Debriefing**

* * *

Bob waited for the round to end. He was the last one, right? Wasn't he?

He tapped out an admin-message.

"_Boose_, _what gives_? _Didn_'_t I win already_?

**Lol look out the back window.**

He shrugged and did as he was commanded.

Uh, nothing. What kind of joke was Boose pulling off now?

**Lol not at the ground. Look up.**

Eh?

* * *

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!" an ear-piercing shriek split the air.

Cannibal was crying and screaming at the same time.

"AAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh!"

Fucking Boose, he was gonna kill fucking Boose, and then fucking Mao, and fucking Pheermee, and fucking—

"Aaaaaaaahhh—"

* * *

_Splat_.

"Ooh, that's gotta hurt," Bob said.

* * *

ROUND ENDED

FINAL SCORE T—2 CT—3

VICTOR: COUNTER-TERRORISTS


End file.
